


Passion

by Chromi (orphan_account)



Series: Thirsty Prompt Fills [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Riding, in the... sexy sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Chromi
Summary: Thatch was an incredibly passionate man. Anyone who knew him would describe him as such.What a lot of people in the crew - almost all of them, in fact - did not know was that Thatch’s passion for all things he partook in also extended to morepersonalendeavours.But Ace knew. Ace knew from first-hand experience.
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace/Thatch
Series: Thirsty Prompt Fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761259
Kudos: 49





	Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the [One Word Prompts - Whitebeard Crew](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321228) on July 21st 2019. Moving to it's own entry to bring the collection's rating down to T!

Thatch was an incredibly passionate man. Anyone who knew him would describe him as such.

He had become commander of the fourth division relatively quickly after joining the crew as a young man, taking to the position with ease and enjoying it thoroughly, despite the paperwork. He had been a cook working under the head chef on the island he had been forcibly ‘rescued’ from by the Whitebeard crew, slaving away under conditions that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy and taking abuse from the middle-aged head chef whenever it took his fancy.

Thatch had flourished under Whitebeard, free from the man who would bellow insults at him while his co-workers watched, finally able to expand upon and develop his natural talent for getting creative in the kitchen. The first meal he had prepared on board the Moby Dick had been one exclusively for his new father, shifting from foot to foot in nervous excitement as Whitebeard had eaten the lot and declared him to be significantly better than he gave himself credit for.

Thatch had worked hard with the other chefs, trained hard in physical combat with Marco, the young man who had successfully recruited him, and proven himself to be loyal and honest and likeable.

What a lot of people in the crew - almost all of them, in fact - did not know was that Thatch’s passion for all things he partook in also extended to more _personal_ endeavours.

But Ace knew. Ace knew from first-hand experience.

He had instigated it, that first touch when they were alone in the gigantic kitchen. Thatch had dragged Ace down there against his will, insisting that the middle of the night was the perfect time to teach the young man how to properly spice his new gourmet soup recipe. “While everyone else is drunk up top,” Thatch had said with a wink, “so they won’t come down here and interrupt. This is a top secret recipe, lad.”

Ace, who Thatch had failed to notice was a little tipsy himself, had simply reached for a loaf of tomato and poppy seed bread that they had baked earlier and ripped it apart, stuffing it in his mouth and grinning at the sigh this earned from his babysitter.

He hadn’t wanted to learn that turmeric was a surprise key ingredient. He had wanted Thatch.

Ace had stepped in close, too close, and taken Thatch by the chin before the older man had realised what his intentions were. But oh, did he respond to the warm lips pressed to his without hesitation, without question, dropping the wooden spoon into the vast saucepan and sweeping Ace up in his arms as if he had been waiting for this. Maybe he had.

Things did not progress beyond a kiss - Ace had slumped in his arms moments after, fast asleep in an instant and snoring. Thatch had carried him to his own bedroom, torn between laughing and crying, and tucked the young man in for the night while he slept on the floor.

Ace had taken the next chance he got, furious with himself for falling asleep right when he had mustered the courage to act. Damn stupid narcolepsy.

He had invented a reason to get Thatch into one of the storerooms alone - “there’s flour everywhere, I think there’s mice on board!” - and set upon him instantly. Hungry, desperate lips had claimed Thatch’s own as Ace had pressed into his chest, moaning into Thatch’s mouth when his hands had slid over his ass and gripped him, pulling him in. Ace had come in his shorts, dry-humping against Thatch and allowing the inside of his mouth to be well and truly explored.

That night after dinner, Ace had found himself summoned to that same storeroom by the same chef, his (now clean) shorts ending up pooled around his ankles as Thatch swallowed his length, not stopping or easing off until he had Ace coming down his throat with a hoarse cry.

If he had thought about it in depth - which in a way he did, constantly losing himself to the memory of Ace’s erection sliding wet between his lips - Thatch would have realised that getting swept up with someone who was determined to murder your father was not a very loyal thing to do. Not at all.

Yet he had remained confident that Ace would join them, assured by the way that Ace had definitely been softening up in the recent weeks. Heck, he had even stopped protesting whenever Thatch beckoned him over to act as a fire for the pans, saving the crew precious gas. He had also started eating his meals with the crew, albeit sticking mainly to Thatch, Teach, or Marco, instead of trying to scavenge food while Thatch’s back was turned.

A couple of weeks into their daily - and sometimes twice daily - foray into each other’s mouths in the storeroom, Thatch had found himself ambushed in his bedroom after showering. Ace had kissed him as he pushed Thatch down onto his bed, kicking off his shorts and pulling away the towel that had hung around the chef’s hips. This had been the first time Ace had seen him completely bare, never being allowed to return any favors, always being the one to come down Thatch’s throat or into his palm without touching him back.

“This has been going on long enough now,” Ace had said, straddling Thatch’s lap and gripping his damp hair at the base of his skull, “don’t you think it’s about time for you to put your cock to good use and fuck me?”

Thatch’s resolve, which had held so strong against countless sessions with Ace, had threatened to crumble the instant he felt that hot heat of Ace’s excitement drag heavy along his own. He had groaned, had settled his palms on Ace’s ass and squeezed, pulling him in closer.

Thatch had allowed himself to be guided into a kiss, not letting Ace set a hungry pace this time and instead taking it slow, languid, pulling back as the younger man had become impatient and tried to speed things up.

“No.”

Ace had stilled in his lap at his whisper, tense and confused. Thatch had smiled wide, open, caring.

“No?”

“I don’t sleep with people who still consider me an enemy,” Thatch had said gently, rolling his hips up against Ace’s as he had pulled him down in the same motion, “although I wouldn’t be against making you come from my fingers.”

Ace had rolled his eyes, smiling. “So I have to join to get you to take this the whole way?”

“Mhm.”

Ace had snorted, smirking. “I wonder if you’d be worth it, old man.”

And Thatch had taken that as a challenge, had rolled them over and shoved Ace’s knees up around his ears, had licked him open and soft before feeling Ace’s searing heat from the inside as it had gripped his fingers tight for the first time. Ace had then come into his mouth once again, crying at the dual intensity of Thatch’s talented lips and tongue and the press of fingers sliding firm against his prostate.

Ace had then avoided him for a week, not seeking out Thatch as had been their routine, not coming down to the kitchens to help out or eating in the mess hall with everyone. It had left Thatch hurt, alone with his worries.

And that was precisely when Marco came to find him.

“I spoke to Ace yesterday,” Marco said, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen as Thatch chopped a red pepper with far too much vigor, “about our family.”

“Oh, yeah?” Thatch said, hurt that Ace had clearly been happy to have Marco’s company and not his own, “what happened?”

Marco folded his arms, grin belying just how much he knew about his best friend’s involvement with their fiery guest. “He listened to me and then went to see his ex first mate,” Marco said. Thatch stopped mid-chop, waiting for the rest. It didn’t come. There was more to the story, he could tell, but Marco wasn’t going to spill everything so easily.

“And?”

“And then he came back and asked me to tell him more about why our family is so important to us all,” Marco’s grin widened as Thatch turned around to look at him at last. “So I told him. I told him our stories.”

“You _what?_ ”

“I told him how Pops saved me. How he saved you.”

Thatch sighed, exasperated. “How did it go?”

“Well,” Marco scratched at his stubbly chin, eyes shining with glee, “I think he enjoyed listening. I took him to see Izou after that. Flew him right over to him. You should have heard him scream when I dove.”

“Izou…?”

And it all clicked into place. Thatch held his breath, the significance of Ace going to visit their very own tattoo artist sinking in. There was no way… There had to be another reason.

But Marco’s expression told him there wasn’t.

“You mean he’s—”

Hurried footsteps behind Marco announced the arrival of another person.

The topic of their discussion.

Ace panted as he swung into the kitchen, looking from Thatch to Marco.

“Have you told him?” he asked Marco, cheeks slightly flushed from the exertion. He must have run all the way down here from the deck.

Marco positively beamed at the Fire Fist. “No, and I think you should show him instead.”

Ace was visibly awash with nervous energy as he turned on the spot and showed his back to Thatch. His back that now bore the mark of Whitebeard, huge and fresh and looking very new, as if Izou had only finished it recently.

“What do you think?” Ace said proudly, looking over his shoulder as Thatch gaped at him, “Izou did it last night. I’ve joined the crew!”

“Well,” Thatch said feebly, wishing that Marco would stop looking at him like _that_ , like he knew exactly what this was doing to him, “you’d be pretty stupid to have it done if you weren’t going to join.”

A crash from somewhere above them sounded, followed by cheers from several men. The celebrations had already started without Ace even being present, by the sounds of it.

As Marco left them with a knowing grin to go supervise the nonsense up top, Ace moved in closer to Thatch. He looked up at him through his eyelashes, smile small and alluring.

“I’m not your enemy anymore,” he breathed, conscious that there were other chefs in the enormous kitchen.

Thatch swallowed thickly. “No, you’re not,” he agreed.

Thatch was never one to lie to his brothers, but he found himself doing just that as Ace led him out of the kitchen by the hand, telling them that he wanted to check on the noise up top. No one believed him.

They crashed into Thatch’s room moments later, connected at the lips and moaning against each other’s tongues as they discarded each other’s clothes hastily. Thatch sat on his bed and pulled Ace along after him, arms encircling his waist as the younger man straddled him once again, knowing that this time his offer wouldn’t be rejected.

“I can’t believe you decided to join us just so you could sleep with me,” Thatch teased, dousing his hand in lube and slicking his fingers, “I feel so honored, I really do.”

“Fuck off with that,” Ace laughed, “that’s just an added bonus. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Ace’s breath left him in a sharp exhale at the feel of Thatch’s fingers dragging over his entrance, firm and insistent.

“We can’t have you on your back today,” Thatch said, pressing kisses to Ace’s chest as he rubbed over the tight skin at his fingers, “not with your tattoo being so new.”

Ace’s hum of agreement turned into a keening moan as he was breached, twitching his hips forward and sliding slick up Thatch’s abdomen.

“So wet already,” Thatch groaned into Ace’s neck, working his finger in and out slowly, relishing the way Ace wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held him close, “so _eager_. You’re so gorgeous, Ace.”

Ace arched against him as a second finger joined in alongside the first, stretching him more and making the ache intensify. But he loved it, he had wanted it again so badly every day since the first time he had felt it.

Thatch sat up a little straighter to kiss Ace, pulling him in gently by the nape of his neck to glide soft against his lips. He swirled his tongue against Ace’s, drowning in the deep, urgent groan that issued from him as he eased a third finger inside. Ace panted into Thatch’s mouth as he curled his fingers and rubbed, finding that spot with ease and bringing his partner to a higher level of pleasure.

Ace’s head dropped backwards with a groan when Thatch licked at his left nipple, nipping at it and sucking the hard bud into his mouth. He felt the wet along his stomach increase and his own cock swell at the noise, at the sensation of Ace, so hot, so tight around him.

Thatch removed his fingers slowly and kissed Ace’s neck, bringing his attention forwards again. “You ready?” he asked, searching those dark, lust-lidded eyes intently.

“Yeah,” Ace breathed, grinding down as Thatch rolled up, tip dragging along his slick entrance, “I’m ready. Been ready for weeks.”

Thatch’s hands wandered along the base of Ace’s spine, cupping his ass and pulling him up a little, guiding him into position. Ace’s fingers pressed to the head of his cock, helping guide him inside as Thatch rolled his hips, breath catching in his throat at the feel of the heat pulling him in. Of Ace, of _Ace_ , so beautiful, so strangely endearing, so perfect and finally part of their family.

He tried to keep the pace slow and steady, giving Ace time to adjust, but it was impossible when Ace decided that that wasn’t an option.

Ace’s thighs flexed powerfully alongside Thatch’s, riding him harder and faster with every second, fingers carding into his hair at the back of his head and gasping for breath. Thatch worked in tandem with him, helping lift his hips and pulling him back down onto his cock, spreading his legs a little wider as he sucked Ace’s tongue into his mouth, losing control of himself to the tight heat engulfing him.

It was the most incredible thing he had ever partaken in, without a doubt, pressing in as close as he could as Ace cupped his jawline and held him there, kissing him deeper than ever.

Thatch felt Ace tremble and moan into his mouth before a hot spurt between them coated their abs, painting them pearly white. Ace continued to bounce in Thatch’s lap, gasping and panting and moaning from the oncoming over-stimulation as he strove to work his partner to orgasm. He succeeded, Thatch growling Ace’s name to his tongue as he bucked into him and lost himself to the fog of ecstasy.

Thatch wanted to be cheesy, wanted to give in to the raging tidal wave of affection that drowned him as he looked into Ace’s eyes, seeing it reflected there. He wanted to tell Ace that he loved him, that he had for months, had loved nurturing their friendship, watching Ace become his real self from out of the miserable shell he had hid in. How much he loved his honesty, his cheekiness, his obsession with food and his infectious, radiant personality. How much he loved everything to do with him.

But instead, Thatch kissed Ace slowly, passionately, drinking in the sensation of Ace returning the gesture, soft and pliant and achingly intimate to his touch.

At the end of the day, they were still just them - still just Thatch and Ace with their silly, fun relationship.

“Still can’t believe you joined the crew just to get some dick.”

A loud laugh and a light smack to the back of his head.

“Still can’t believe you ravaged the guy who spent months trying to kill your father.”

Thatch chuckled. Touché.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a big, big fan of Thatch and Ace's friendship. The novel gave us so much precious info and I expired when I read it. These two were clearly incredibly important to each other, but tbh I don't actually ship them (I'll die with AceDeuce please leave me to rot). However, I can also see it happening...? 
> 
> TL;DR everyone loves Ace except Ace himself.
> 
> Feel free to fill [my Tumblr](https://chromiwrites.tumblr.com/) inbox with prompts, nonsense, or anything at all! I love to chat TT
> 
> Comments and kudos let me know if I'm doing something right, and I always love your feedback!


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